


Leave Out All The Rest

by BeaBumble



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Brother Love, I am not opposed, I am so sorry, Other, So much angst, also satisfying my angst kink, bff love, bros being bros, exploring stepbrothers au, if you wanted to interpret it that way, screw Rich's squip, subtle boyf riends, subtle richjake I guess, subtle stagedorks I guess, subtle tree bros, very sad, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaBumble/pseuds/BeaBumble
Summary: One moment he was sitting lazily on the couch nursing a beer, the next people were rushing past and screaming. Head hazy and disconnected Jeremy watched the scene unfold from his seat until Brooke grabbed hold of his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. She was shaking him and pointing, her mouth moving but no sound reaching comprehension. Suddenly reality crashed into Jeremy like a bowling ball, straight in his gut as every sound, smell, and sensation flooded into registration. Flames licked every wall around Jeremy, his lungs filling with smoke. Jake's house was on fire.Or...A look at the Halloween party fire should the Dear Evan Hansen characters have been involved in some way. It's sad guys, had to satisfy my angst kink. I am so very sorry.





	1. Looking Too Closely

Evan slouched in the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, his foot lightly tapping on the floor. The house was pretty quiet since Mom and Mr. Heere had left on a date. Plus, he hadn't seen Jeremy since he had come home from school, heading straight to his room silently. Evan assumed he had hoped no one would notice, so he entertained himself in the big quiet house, leaving Jeremy alone. He hoped if he tried not to bother him, maybe, he would feel comfortable to talk to him about whatever was going on. Everything had eased into a sense of a kind of new normal since Heidi and Evan had become part of the Heere family. Although it was a little bumpy and awkward at first, everyone seemed to get used to each other quicker then he had expected. Jeremy and Evan had grown close, Evan's heart starting to grow in fondness toward his new awkward curly haired little brother.  

Jeremy, he had thought, shared the sentiment, introducing him to his best friend and inviting him to play video games with them. Teasing him for being old and uptight when he had caught them smoking weed in Jeremy's room. Everything had felt better than it had in a long time, Evan feeling much happier than he had ever thought possible. He didn't deserve it, he thought. But as of about a week or so ago, Jeremy seemed distant. He talked little during family dinners, came home wearing different new clothes, Michael much less present, and his walking gaiting holding a forced confidence Evan didn't recognize. It just seemed off, and as much as Evan wished to be able to help, he didn't know if he could curve up the courage to offer. So he waited and hoped Jeremy knew he was here for him. He would always be there for him.  

Leaning over his sketchbook, he laid his pencil down since his focus had waned as his mind wandered. The half-drawn oak tree stared back at him sadly as the motivation to finish the sketch floated away with his worried thoughts. He looked up to catch Jeremy trying to slip past Evan and into the garage, his converse only barely squeaking on the tiled floor. When had Jeremy learned to be so quiet? Evan wondered offhandedly when memories of Jeremy's hilarious clumsiness haunted the back of his mind. Brushing it off, he groaned to remind Jeremy he was sitting right behind him. Jere startled before turning around slowly, he waved awkwardly, a small anxious smile on his face. 

"Just heading to a Halloween Party at a friend's house," Jeremy said, his shoe angled out so he could turn away at a moment's notice. His energy seemed anxious to escape which placed a tension between the both of them. Worst of it all has Evan had no idea why.  

"Oh, um, I could drive you." He mumbled, trying to ease the tension. Hand reaching into his backpack, his fingers grasped at the bottom of the bag for his keys. But found nothing. He grumbled, frustrated he misplaced them  _again._  But before he could get out of the kitchen chair to check his room, the jangle of keys interrupted his thoughts. Looking up his eyes met his keys in Jeremy's hand, a hand that was currently outstretched to him. 

"Sorry. He – I mean, I, well... here." Placing them on the table, he turned away quickly, averting Evan's gaze.  The way he seemed to skitter away scared made his heart sink. Did he think he would be mad? Who was he scared of? Why did Jeremy steal his keys? Grappling with a million questions Evan searched for something to say. Anything. 

"Want me to pick you up?" Well, he said anything. Jeremy froze, unmoving and quiet in a way that unnerved Evan, the silence seemingly deafening. Panicking he tried to smooth the mistake. "I don't have too, you can walk if you want I just thought –" 

"No, that would be fine. Thanks, Evan." The door crashed behind Jeremy, his step bouncing a bit more than normal. The last worse were sincere, the sincerest sounding words he had heard from Jeremy in more than a week. Evan almost wanted to feel proud of himself for being the reason he seemed to skip away happier than he was. But instead, he was weighed down with worry, a worry that filled his bones like lead. Something definitely felt wrong. 

~*~

"Or you'll what?" Michael was standing in front of Jeremy, blocking his path. 

His warm brown eyes were writhing with worry and anger. It made Jeremy's insides churn nauseatingly because of more than unwanted alcohol. He didn't deserve his worry, he didn't deserve his research. He was doing ...  _fine_. The S.Q.U.I.P was …  _helping_. Right? He had no reason to worry. Right? The questions hung in the air uncomfortably. Memories flashed of the last few scenes of the night, Chloe's breath sickeningly sweet with the tinge of alcohol from her baby bottle. Her hands pressing against him, lips rushing to meet his. Stop, he had told the S.Q.U.I.P, stop. But he couldn't move, he couldn't pull away, he couldn't tell her to get off. Oh, and the way Brooke's face had dropped when he fled the scene.  

Everything was just too much. The world was like six walls pressing in on Jeremy, crushing him inside. He wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop, stop and leave him alone. Eyes locking with the first obstacle in his way, the pressure blew through his temples.  

"Get out of my way," He growled, pushing through Michael, who only stared. "Loser." 

Michael moved to the side suddenly, his eyes widening. Jeremy stumbled forward, walking slowly away from the bathroom. His throat burned, unshed tears sat threateningly at the corners of his eyes. He stopped for a moment, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't get a hold of himself. Everything was spiraling out of control and he couldn't keep it together. He thought of Evan's face when he revealed that he had stolen his keys. The worry. Why was everyone so worried all the time? Why couldn't everyone just leave Jeremy alone? Thoughts scattered Jeremy wished for the S.Q.U.I.P's help, his guidance so he at least wouldn't have to figure this all out alone.  

The party seemed to be winding down around him, Rich rushing around the drunk teenagers. He was yelling something unintelligible from guest to guest. Jeremy watched amused for a moment until his eyes landed on the sad expression sitting on Christine's face. She sat on the couch in the living room, a medieval gown draped down her figure. She looked  _beautiful_. On impulse Jeremy found himself sitting beside her, his face turned to appreciate her beauty up close. Somehow everything felt almost okay, her gaze having nothing to do with him easing his unsteady thoughts. 

"Hey." She noticed him, turning toward him just enough for him to see her small smile at his presence. Distracted by her smile Jeremy had completely forgotten to reply, his mind scrambled trying to play it off.  

"Yo," he remarked uncomfortably. "So, where's your date?" 

She deflated. "He's having make-up sex with Chloe." A pause. Christine seemed to be trying to gather herself, pulling up the pieces of her mood more graceful than Jeremy ever could. "So, my night's pretty awesome."  

Dumbfounded, Jeremy waited for something to say. But the S.Q.U.I.P wasn't there to direct him. He was on his own. His brain seemed to short circuit at this.  

"Sorry." He mumbled, dejected and lost the right thing to say. 

"Don't be. I dumped him." 

It took all of Jeremy's small amount of manpower to keep his mouth from dropping open. "You dumped Jake? Why? Sorry, you don't have to..." He let his half-witted unformed sentence fall flat. She smiled softly at Jeremy again, it melted his heart the way she looked at him, she sighed. 

"I'm not Juliet." She almost whispered, her gaze finding her shoes. "And, he's kind of a jerk, so..." 

There was a beat of silence, the truth of her words sinking into Jeremy like titanium. He hated that Jake made her feel that way. God, how he wished he could make her happy. Make her feel like she was Juliet. She deserved it, he thought. If anyone did it was sweet and bubbly Christine. She deser –  

"SERIOUSLY! WHERE THE  ~~FK~~  CAN I GET SOME MOUNTAIN DEW RED!" Rich's voice cut through Jeremy's thoughts like a knife, slicing up the tension with it.  

He stared at the both of them for a moment, them staring back in confusion. She laughed. Christine laughed, a kind of laugh that was so infectious you couldn't not laugh with her. So he did. They laughed and for a second everything seemed okay in the world. Then Jeremy's mind wandered to Michael, and he wished Michael could be here. Be here to laugh with them. If only Jeremy hadn't been an ass maybe he would be. As much as he didn't want to think about him, Michael seemed to have a special way of creeping into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times. And, damn, was it annoying. Rich had moved on, walking away in his brisk jog around the room still frantic until he rushed upstairs.  

"Popular people are meeeeeeessssed uupp." Christine giggled, pulling Jeremy back to the present. He chuckled, his gaze shifting through the room. 

"Word." Yow. Never saying that again. 

"I mean, you're one of them." She said offhandedly as it were fact. The fact seemed to throw Jeremy for a loop, the haze in his brain making him look down at himself to see if anything had changed within the last thirty seconds. Looking back at her he scoffed. 

"What? No, I'm not." 

Christine pulled a look of fake offense, a real smile playing at her lips. "Hello? Guy who had been pucking his way through the Midsummer Cast." 

Jeremy teased her, mimicking her fake offense."I'm not– pucking?" 

"Like that? Just made it up. Ha. Boo-ya!" The words left her mouth like second nature, and Jeremy was speechless. For a moment he couldn't believe that Christine couldn't see, she didn't notice while she was so busy being herself how incredibly impressive that was. How authentically Christine could just be, Christine. She must have taken his silence more awkward than Jeremy had, lost in his thoughts. "What?" 

"It's just … I don't know what I am supposed to say right now." 

She smiled, a real genuine smile, reaching back through her cheeks revealing the adorkable dimples in her cheeks. "Say whatever's on your mind." 

And Jeremy tried. He really did, he took a solid moment trying to articulate a thought. But he opened his mouth all that preparatory thought went out the window as a weird strangled noise came out. For a moment she seemed surprised, her stare boring holes into Jeremy's chest. He felt heat rise on his cheeks and his ears, embarrassment spreading like a bad rash. That is until Christine lets out a similar odd unhuman noise. Suddenly they were exchanging odd noises of varied oddity until laughter made them bellow in joy. Jeremy relaxed into the couch, Christine just close enough for them to touch. Everything was okay.  

"It's kinda killer to sit and chat with you." She murmured smiling at nothing, not noticing the way Jeremy wiped around to watch her. 

"Really?" His voice was small, calculating.  

"It's true. It's pretty killer to sit and chat with you." She hummed almost sing-song in a way that he couldn't help but smile at. 

"It's pretty killer for me too." 

"I'm glad we agree." Her eyes drifted lazily through the living room, the soft light coming from the kitchen illuminating her like an angel. God, Jeremy  _worshiped her._  Sitting so close to her, basking in the beauty and comfortable atmosphere Jeremy's courage spiked suddenly. Desire and infatuation filled his lungs and his mouth spoke without his permission. 

"Christine, will you go out with me?" 

The question hung in the air so long regret darkened the relaxation they had been enjoying.  

"Jeremy... I can't." She paused, a deep-set frown suddenly upon her face. "I don't think I should go out with anyone until I know who I am. I know that's not what you wanted, I'm sorry." 

Jeremy wanted to shrink in a ball in order to disappear from the situation he created. He didn't want to deal with it anymore. He wished the S.Q.U.I.P was here to tell him what to do, or at least give him a break for thinking for himself. He always seemed to make the wrong choices by himself, pushing away his best friend in the world, asking out Christine  _immediately_  after she broke up with Jake, why was he such a mess all the time? He couldn't breathe, the walls having returned to crush him on this stupid green couch all by himself. His mind wandered to Michael, the way he would rub Jeremy's shoulders when he was having panic attacks. How he wished he was here. But he had messed that up too. Awkward and disappointed Christine got up from the couch, a frown replacing that smile Jeremy loved so much. 

 _Hello Jeremy_  

The S.Q.U.I.P appeared, the Keanu Reeves form smirk lightly at him. But Jeremy didn't feel like smiling back. 

 _'About time!'_  

He seemed to groan.  _My_ _absence_ _was not ideal. But it was_ _necessary_ _. One moment while I review the data from this evening._ A pause.  _Oh, my._  

Jeremy sighed, resigned, everything just seemed to fall apart with his luck. He just didn't care anymore. But for some reason, in that moment a glitter of hope swelled in his belly, hoping the S.Q.U.I.P would prove his doubts wrong and fix everything.  

 _'It's bad right?'_  

Jeremy expected another groan, maybe even an insult at his remark. But instead, he was met with an automated voice that somehow sounded worried. If Jeremy didn't know better he would have thought the S.Q.U.I.P sounded scared, terrified even. 

 _We need to get you home. Now._  

 _'What? No! How would I do that?'_  

 _Walk._  

 _'Evan is going to pick me up, I can't just abandon him.'_  

 _Jeremy, you need to leave now._  

 _'No. I already betrayed his trust today, I am not doing it again. I am not losing anyone else today. He's my brother._ _'_  

 _Step._  

 _'Same difference.'_  

The grey-blue form before him sighed, leaning back to start another counter-argument or worse, take control. In defiance, Jeremy lurched forward catching a half-full beer from the side table, downing it as fast he could. He repeated the mantra over whatever the S.Q.U.I.P. was trying to yell as he faded away, a panicked look on his face.  _I am not losing anyone else today. I am not losing anyone else today. I am not losing anyone else today._  The beer was cold in his raw throat, the tinge of bitter aftertaste threatened to make Jeremy gag as he regained composure. But still, he picked up another beer, resting it on his knee, as he melted into the couch. After that Jeremy felt like he was disconnected from time, everything moving at a pace he didn't recognize. And he didn't care. The couch was soft under his lanky figure that collapsed further into it after every sip of beer.

It went on like that for who knows how long, Jeremy floating in this numb stated he assumed was induced by the alcohol. Then it happened. One moment he was sitting lazily on the couch nursing a beer, the next people were rushing past and screaming. Head hazy and disconnected Jeremy watched the scene unfold from his seat until Brooke grabbed hold of his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. She was shaking him and pointing, her mouth moving but no sound reaching comprehension. Suddenly reality crashed into Jeremy like a bowling ball, straight in his gut as every sound, smell, and sensation flooded into registration. Flames licked every wall around Jeremy, his lungs filling with smoke. Jake's house was on fire. 

"Jeremy! We have to go. Jeremy!" Brooke was panicked, trying to put her face in front him so he could focus. Jeremy made a mental note to thank her for it later. His eyes locked on her golden hair, the way it shone in the burning house. Her frightened grey eyes that shone like diamonds. How beautiful she was. Guilt rooted in his heart as looked at her, helping to bring him into focus. Shaking he peeled her hands off his shoulders, taking a shaky step back. 

"Yeah, okay, okay. Go, I'll, I'll be … right behind you." His words tumbled out, as vague and mumbled as his thoughts. But Brooke, obviously terrified, took his response to heart and darted off.  

And Jeremy meant to follow her. He really did. But as he always seemed to do, Michael popped into Jeremy's scrambling mind. Michael. His Michael. Where was Michael? Jeremy wanted to believe he had already made it out, he wanted to trust that Michael took care of himself and fled. But doubt crippled his reasonableness and suddenly it was too much of a risk to trust his friend's survival instinct.  _I am not losing anyone else today._ Stepping away from the door out, the door to safety, he turned around to the hallway behind him past the staircase. Running through the hall he tried to remember which door was the bathroom.  

"Michael!" He called, hoping a friendly voice could help him out. "Michael!" 

"Jeremy?" The voice rang from a door to Jeremy's left, disbelief and subtle resentment reflecting off it. But he was too overjoyed to have found Michael to hear it. 

"Michael!" Jeremy rushed to the door, hand planting on the nob. 

 He expected to turn it with no problem, to skip away out of danger with his best friend in tow. But real life never worked out that easy. Instead, he found the doorknob to be still in his hand.  He jerked at it for a moment panic rising in his throat. But it didn't feel like it was blocked or jammed, it felt more like it was … locked. 

"Michael, open the door!" Jeremy was only met with silence, but he could feel the resignation and depression radiating in waves from the small room. Crouching down as the smoke filled the air Jeremy coughed, realization hitting him like bricks. He was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Goddammit. "Michael, please." 

"Get out of here, Jeremy. I'll be fine." 

Jeremy wanted to cry, to scream.  _No!_   This was not happening. He couldn't wrap his head around ever being without his second half, being without him because he had taken him for granted. Guilt and fear mixed in his breath like alcohol, words flying out of his mouth before he could stop them, his forehead pressed against the bathroom door.  

"Michael, please, don't give up. Not because of me. I know I am a little shit a lot of the time. Don't you ever  _ever_ doubt your worth because of it. You, you are Michael Mell! What would I be without you? It's a two-player game, remember." Quiet drew a distance of football fields between them, the occasional pop and creak of the house reminding them where they were. Jeremy's breath came in quick and hot, he was so freaking scared. "Michael don't you dare leave me! Get off your ass and open the damn door!" 

Seconds seem to tick like hours, an eternity having passed in a few minutes. Sitting against the door, the sound coming out of the bathroom, Jeremy cried, vowing he would die here. He would not abandon Michael again. Not again. He would sta– 

Suddenly the door opened, Jeremy falling forward with it. His eyes met with once white sneakers standing in front of him. He jumped up wrapping his best friend in his arms, tears streaking down Michael's cheeks too. Jeremy muttered apologies into the black sweater beneath his nose, Michael only response the way his arms squeezed tighter. They hugged as if should they separate they would disappear, the whole of the rest of the world fading away when they reunited as if the fire had the decency to give them a moment. But of course, fire can't decide to do anything of the sort. Jeremy and Michael were jerked apart by the crash that was a body falling over the balcony next to the stairs. Rushing over they were met with the groaning soot-covered face of Jake Dillinger.  

"Jake?" Michael leaned down to tap his face, hoping to help him regain some kind of consciousness.  

"M'legs. Hurt. Rich..." Jake mumbled, eyes barely open to register. Sudden and way too fast, he attempts to sit up. "Rich! You have to find Rich! He... He was trying to... He, I, you have to find him!" He grasped hold of Michael's shoulders, shaking them slightly before gasping in pain. 

It was at this point Jeremy looked up to watch a short shadowed figure rush from the stairs, around the corner into the kitchen to their left.  _Rich._  

"Michael, could you carry him?" He looked up to Jeremy, eyes locking most intensely at him since the party.  

"Yes." He said hesitantly, almost as if he knew what Jeremy was planning. Turns out he did seem to have some kind of idea. Twelve years of friendship rearing its ugly, sentimental head. "Jere, no, no. I am not leaving you here." 

"You know I can't lift anything to save my life. You always call me freaking noodle arms. Just, you get Jake out of here and I'll get Rich. We'll meet up on the lawn. Trust me." Jeremy tired his best at puppy eyes, pleading for Michael to listen. Although he was scared Jeremy had confidence he would get out, they would both get out. And then he would get this stupid supercomputer out of his brain once and for all. Jeremy realized, albeit way too late, he didn't need everyone to love him. Just a few. Michael watched him, his eyes calculating the risk before glancing at Jake who groaned again.   

"Jeremy..." 

"I'll be fine. Promise." 

"If you are not out of this house two minutes after I get Jake out, I'm coming after you. Got it?" Michael stood up, standing so close to Jeremy he thought he might punch him for good measure. Instead, he wrapped him into a tight quick hug before stepping back to hook his arms under Jake's armpits. Jeremy didn't like the idea of Michael heading back into the burning house should something happen to him, but he knew this was something he wouldn't be able to talk him out of. Taking what he could get Jeremy nodded at his friend and ran past the boys, turning a corner into the kitchen to meet Rich. 

~*~ 

 

Rich's breathing was ragged and weak, his whole body aching and sweaty. He ran into the kitchen unaware of why the S.Q.U.I.P Kermit appearing at every turn he took. His head was spinning, spinning like a metal top like in Inception, Rich waiting desperately hoping for it to fall over revealing this whole night to be a dream. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn't, he knew by the way his skin had burned like hot coals into going numb, he knew by the was a cold sweat instantly drenched him, he knew by the look of fury on his S.Q.U.I.P's face, and he knew best by the way his stomach had dropped to the floor as he watched himself push his best friend off the balcony. Rich had pushed him, pushed Jake, his best friend. Pushed him right over the edge of the balcony beside the stairs, all because he refused to leave the fire he created.  

Worst of it, he knew Jake was only there to help him. He wanted to get Rich out of this nightmare, to help him get out this house. Unlike most people Jake knew about his suicidal thoughts he had, he knew about the freshman year that tried to kill him. He was trying to save him. But this wasn't like that time in the bathroom, or on the roof. This was different. Rich wanted to die here in this fire to protect everyone else, protect everyone else from his S.Q.U.I.P. The very reason he couldn't control himself to keep Jake from falling over the edge. The reason he watched helplessly as his S.Q.U.I.P slowly regained enough control to make small decisions with big consequences. 

 _Just let me get us out of here!_  

That's all he wanted. Kermit S.Q.U.I.P just wanted to make it out of this alive. But Rich was done, he was done listening to that little shit who had controlled his life for way too long. And since there didn't seem to be any Mountain Dew Red in sight, this was the only option. The only way to escape. He hadn't meant for it to go this far, he hadn't meant to use fire. It all just sort of happened. One moment he was sitting in Jake's parent's bathroom, crying his eyes out, the next he was staring at the candle on the toilet tempting fate. Why was dying so hard? Rich wondered.  

 _Just let me get us out of here! Then no one else has to get hurt!_  

Kermit S.Q.U.I.P. repeated itself like a broken record, it's voice sounding almost soft and scared. But Rich knew better. He knew how the S.Q.U.I.P. manipulated, trying to seem innocent until the time came to push best friends downstairs.   

 _Just let me get us out of here!_  

"No!" Rich all but screamed, staring at the form that followed him around. "Leave me alone! We are not leaving! Just give up why don't you."  

 _Oh Richie, if only it_ _was_ _that simple._ The sinister fury returned to its voice, the tone Rich was used to.  _I refuse to die here because the kid I inhabit is weak._  

He closed his eyes tight, trying to gain control of himself. He knew he was walking through the kitchen without his permission. Rich heaved with all his willpower to stop himself from walking away. And he did, for a moment. For a moment everything seemed to still and quiet, a kind of peaceful. But suspicious. He opened his eyes to look around, no Kermit or Jake to be seen. He was alone in a burning kitchen talking to himself. Maybe, he hoped, maybe he would get some peace and quiet before the end. Maybe the universe owed him one. But then he felt a slender weight in his hand, and Rich knew the S.Q.U.I.P had been playing him the whole time. Moving his limbs under Rich's nose by convincing his mind nothing was happening. The sudden output of power on the fake Kermit's part scared him.  

A kitchen knife sat in his hand, shiny and glinting in the firelight. Resting perfectly still as if it had always been there. What was fake Kermit going to do with it? What was he planning? 

' _What's your play you overdressed lizard?'_  

A sinister chuckled echoed in Rich's ears sending a shiver down his spine. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Movement startled him out of his trance, causing him to look up from his hands to realize it was closer to the door. He was standing close to the entrance of the kitchen, closer to the door outside. Was he going to win again? Vile seemed to boil in Rich's stomach at the thought of giving into the will of the S.Q.U.I.P. again. Speaking of the devil, he didn't seem to want to appear physically to Rich anymore, the room around him empty and quiet with pop and crack of the fire. Where did he go? He watched the room surveying for suspicious activity when his eyes met with bright blue ones coming through the doorway into the kitchen. Rich almost choked on his spit. Dear God. No.  

"Tall ass?" Rich's voice cracked, despair sinking into his bones. Jeremy's eyes were lit with life, an amusement crossing over them at the sound of his voice. The S.Q.U.I.P.'s chuckle then turned into a full laugh, crowding out everything said or thought.  _'You knew?'_  

 _I was aware of favorable_ _possibilities_ _._  

Rich felt sick, the vile that was in his stomach rising to his throat. He fought with all his might to keep his hands to his sides, but he knew his resolve was slipping. Fake Kermit knew it too. Without further struggle, Rich watched helplessly as Kermit appeared again, right be behind him green hands rested on Rich's elbows. Then he pushed. Tears rushed down his cheeks as he watched his own hands betray him. One hand rested on Jeremy's shoulder, in a way that could be interpreted as a comfort but Rich knew was just to keep him still. Keep him still while the other hand plunged the knife into his abdomen. Jeremy gasped, his posture instantly crumbling as he curled in. But the S.Q.U.I.P. didn't appear to be done. Pulling out the knife gracefully and quick, he went in for another stab, hitting Jeremy higher, closer to his chest. His hand pulling the knife out to prepare for another blow, Rich's resolve disintegrated. 

 _'FINE! I'LL GET US OUT! JUST STOP! STOP!_ _'_  

Finally, his hands halted, suddenly releasing all contents. The knife clattered to the floor, covered in blood, and Jeremy crumpled to the floor also covered in blood. His blood. The S.Q.U.I.P. stood close by, no doubt writhing in his victory.  

 _'Go away. I'll get us out, just leave me alone for a bit why don't you.'_  

Nodding, fake Kermit disappeared, his presence in Rich's mind dampened. Any other day, Rich probably would have given himself a moment to grieve his loss, to watch as the pieces of his soul were replaced by mechanical parts. But today he didn't get that luxury, no scratch that, he didn't deserve it. Instead, he crouched to the floor, leaning over the boy laying in a pool of his own blood with wounds caused by Rich's own hands. He could barely breathe, the panic and burns paying their toll without the S.Q.U.I.P constant vigilance. Jeremy shook violently, the blood loss seemly getting to him much faster, his face growing paler by the second.  

"Jeremy?" Rich was still crying, hard, the reality of this all oozing like cement in the cracks in his sanity. "Jeremy, I am so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

~*~ 

The car stalled as Evan turned on the route Siri suggested, taking him down roads he had never been. He started to think he might be a bit lost everything around him seemed to be taking a foresty turn. Evan sat uncomfortably in the leather seats, his mind drifting to Jeremy. He knew once he got this Jake Dillinger's house they would have to sit together in the car for the next ten or so odd minutes. And he hoped to God that Jere-bear would ready to talk so they wouldn't sit in awkward silence on their way home. Breathing hard through his nose he prepared himself for a potentially awkward situation that would slowly leak the sanity out of him. While rounding a small neighborhood road a siren sounded behind the small Honda, Evan rolling to the sidewalk to let a flashing ambulance pass. As he drove back the road he couldn't help the roiling pit of anxious worry that made a home in his stomach. 

Everything is probably fine, he told himself as the road twisted on. Seconds felt like hours as doubts hopped at the opportunity to infect and fester in Evan's mood. He tried to push them away, adopting the coping techniques his therapist taught him. Mentally he wrote himself a note, trying to calm his heart that speed up in worry. 

Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is a good day because you made Jeremy smile today. You are also going to pick him up from a party and then have ice cream with your new dad. Everything is fine. You are happy. 

Sincerely, Me.

Evan could see the mental pen, watched it scratch down the words soothingly. The technique seemed to calm him, for a moment at least. A moment until he noticed the smoke peeking out above the trees. Grey-black smoke swirled in the sky like a murder of crows, haunting and bringing a message of ill fate with them. The pit in Evan's widened, threating to pull him inside into a pit of despair, ready to eat him whole.  Fear crippled his small heart as the reflex caused him in involuntarily pushing the gas pedal harder, hoping with every yellow flashing light in his he was wrong. But, to his horror, he wasn't. Instead, he pulled up to a house that was surrounded by firetrucks, ambulances and screaming teenagers. Siri chanted over and over again haunting Evan's ears. 

_You have arrived at_ _your_ _destination._

_You have arrived at_ _your_ _destination._

_You have arrived at your destination._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Yeah. Sorry. Really I am, I listened to sad music while writing this and cried. I'm sorry. My poor babies. I'm sorry I am a terrible person. There should be only one more chapter but should I get the motivation I might make this into a mini-series let me know if you guys want some avenging, squip-kicking and *raises eyebrow* ghosts.


	2. Blue the Most Human Color

Hospitals are weird. They're a kind of timeless that you are sure that you could walk in ten years ago and everything would look that same. A kind of trying to look inviting but really coming off as desperate. Nobody likes hospitals. Hell, Michael would even bet Doctors don't enjoy hospitals. He would often look at the pictures hanging in the hallways and wonder if through all that school and debt, are those smiles real? He didn't think so. Of all the hospitals Michael had been to, none had ever looked like ones in movies. All and white and sterile and chaotic. No, instead he would find himself in a sparsely populated long room with varying shades of brown interior decorating. Brown curtains, brown carpet, brown semi-comfortable chairs and brown receptionist desks that make you wonder, who designed this? The only color to be found is inside the large fish tanks with a couple fish. Just enough for every small child to pick one out as Nemo no matter what kind of fish lived there. 

But, as Michael would find out, the ER is different. Especially at 2 AM. The ER is all white and sterile but not chaotic. Instead, it is too quiet. Grey and white chairs lining walls, and people who sit in them with puffy eyes and nervous tapping feet. A kind of violent quiet that makes you realize silence is very loud. It stuffs through your ears like cotton balls, revealing every dark secret or fear you have ever hidden. A kind of quiet that makes you realize how vulnerable people really are. We don't have shells or scales or quills. Just skin and bones and messy feelings. Messy feelings that are dark red and seep into every crack and cranny, mixing with the blood sticking to Michael's hands. In that moment, sitting in one of the plastic chairs in the ER with his best friend's family, he wished with all his might he hadn't left his headphones at home. 

~*~

_TWO HOURS EARLIER_

~*~

Due to inactivity, the GPS in Evan's car turned itself off, Siri's last words echoing and corrupting his previous train of thought. The comforting mantra died on his tongue, his mind short-circuiting as he sprinted out of his still running car. There were teenagers everywhere, coughing and crying, soot tainting the air with a grey haze floating ominously. Running through the crowd Evan eyes locked on a girl he recognized, a blonde girl with dried tears on her cheeks and a hand around her shoulder from some tall girl. He remembered seeing her around the house recently, Jeremy usually cringing when Evan walked in, insisting they were leaving. The memory burned in the back of his eyes making him want to cry. He just wanted to find him, just to be sure he was okay. Evan rushed over to her, his lungs convulsing in his chest and he tried to herald his panic. 

"You're..." He gasped cutting off, hoping the seemingly nice-looking girl would fill in the blank. Clutching his stomach, he resisted the urge to hurl on his shoes that were, ironically, wet with dew from the grass.

"Brooke." She moaned, eyes raking over him skeptically. "Who are you?"

"Where – where is, " Gasp. "J–Jeremy?"

Her face dropped instantly as recognition passed her features, fresh tears bursting from her eyes like a floodgate. The nauseous vile in Evan's stomach rose to his throat again, threatening to make him vomit. He swallowed it down, his ears straining to discern her next words that were stuttered and wet. 

"You're, you're, Evan, his brother. He, we, I, I tried. I was going to, but he," Brooke seemed to become startled by her own words, her head whipping around, scanning the people around them. Taking a shuddering breath to steady herself, he assumed, her gaze was back on him. Grey eyes wide with panic. "I tried to, to, to get him out but I don't know if, if, he did."

The words flew at Evan like small fighter pilots, little jets full of tiny atomic bombs going kamikaze on him. The hurl he been holding back flew out in full force, he wretched in the grass, thankfully a few inches away from his shoes. His brain spun, everything he might have thought or felt flying out the window into an indiscernible chaotic mush of buzzing. As soon as the contents of his stomach were unloaded on the ground, his grip on sanity and reality slipping making the world seem to wiggle and dance as he ran towards the large house that was glowing with raging fire. He knew he was screaming but the buzzing crowding every noise in his head crept through his ears keeping him from hearing it. He imagined he sounded as desperate and broken as he felt as he ran screaming Jeremy's name, only halting for a moment to remember a step further would be a burning house. 

That is when a large body went crashing into him, sending them both to the ground, mud splattering on Evan's face. Gasping, he laid there for a moment every sound blending into the buzz around him, tears falling deftly as the ruthless inner voice grew louder.  _You'll never find him. You are useless._

A few seconds passed, the body pinning him down starting to scramble to get up off him. Evan barely registered hands pulling him off the ground, the weight on his chest having left. His eyes then met with frightened brown ones that scanned him meticulously. Glasses glinted in the firelight, the boy's mouth moving signaling he was speaking. Recognition then hit Evan like a bus, memories flashing in front of him as he realized who he was talking too. As he took to focus on the grounding hands on his shoulders, sounds started registering through the buzz, his inner voice quieting. Michael, Jeremy's best friend, was shaking Evan's shoulders saying his name over and over again. But he could barely think the only question on his mind making it sputtering out of his mouth like a suffocating fish. 

"Where's Jeremy?"

"We were in the house, he got me out and Jake he like fell and I had to get him out but Jeremy couldn't carry him and Rich was still in the house so we split up and it's been five minutes and I haven't seen them and the fire fighters just got here and I heard one say that it is too hot for them to rescue anybody and I can't just leave them there, especially after everything that happened he needs to know that I don’t hate him and then I crashed into you and," Michael gasped for air in the middle of his rant, the words tumbling out faster than Evan could register. 

Everything was happening too quickly, the last ten minutes feeling more like hours, the chaos eating at his insides. Michael's rushed explanation barely made a dent in his confusion, the words mushing together in the 80-words a minute jumble. The only thing he could really discern, the only thing he could really feel is fear. Michael's fear, the surrounding teenagers fear, his own fear that made his heart hammer uncomfortably in his chest. Everything was too much and he just to go home. Go home and curl in his bed. But Evan couldn’t, he wasn't even sure he could physically drag himself away without Jeremy with him. He couldn't leave without Jeremy. Looking at Michael as he tried to steady his feelings he knew that he wouldn't either. Pulling himself up, straightening his back, they shared glances to each other and the burning house standing ominously in front of them. 

As if sensing the insane thing they were about to do a large figure started rushing toward them. Through the smoke and from the house a short but wide figure barreled toward the duo startling them backward. As it came into view they would realize it was actually two people, a short teen with a streak of color in his hair and badly burned shoulders, dragging along hunched boy with an arm under his arms. Evan's eyes widened, his whole-body going numb as the realization hit him. As they came closer, Evan began to be able to discern colors and faces. 

_Jeremy._

~*~

Breathing is hard. You never really realize how hard breathing is to remember when you don't need too. But then you do. Jeremy, himself, was familiar with the struggle to remember to breath when your body seems to forget. Of course, all those instances were associated with panic attacks and wrestling matches with Michael when they are rolling on the floor like five-year-olds. But, as Jeremy and Rich hobbled out of the burning house and into Jake's front yard, he came into a contact with a different kind of hard breathing. This time his chest and stomach throbbed, dull at first, but spiking with intensity with every beat of his heavy heart. Jeremy could feel his lungs quivering each time he took a breath, sharp pains shooting up his throat with every heave. It was the worst kind of annoying constant pain that you can't escape, that in the moment you feel as though you would do anything to make it stop.

Jeremy could feel himself shivering uncontrollably, Rich's grip on his armpit tightening every time he stumbled because of it. He could hear noises, soft and static in his ears, the chaos he guessed that must be raging outside. But it was almost like Jeremy was in a bubble, watching everything that was happening on the outside, not completely registering the events but still present somehow. Sometimes his view of the world blurred, going all wibbly wobbly like when a TV is grasping for the signal of a channel. Time seemed to go in a kind of slow motion, time all stretching into one long montage of events that Jeremy desperately tried keep up with. But everything was starting to move faster, gradually getting faster and faster so it became so much harder for him to keep up in a matter of seconds. 

Suddenly Jeremy's knees gave out on him, almost planting him face first into the grass. Rich caught him before lowering them both gently to the ground. He could hear Rich heaving in the air beside him as Jeremy let himself slip from his grasp. He wondered, offhandedly, if it was hard for him to breath too? Maybe for different reasons, he supposed, but he couldn't ignore the burns glistening with sweat. Not for forever. The world of a million colors around Jeremy tilted on its side until everything was upside down as he let himself sprawl out on the ground. He could feel the ground beneath him rumble as two people join Rich and him, the figures crouching in the grass. Jeremy's head weighed a thousand pounds when he tried to turn to see who had arrived, bleak fuzzy memories of everything before the kitchen clearing slightly. 

Michael and Evan gaped at him from so high, looking like towering trees hovering over his head. Evan had tears sitting on his face like freckles, his mouth hanging open just enough that space inside looked as pitch black as a dark room. But, to Jeremy's surprise, there was no panic on his face, only shock. The shock that must have paralyzed him in the same way it did Jeremy when Rich's face was contorted with fear and disgust as a kitchen knife nested itself in his intestines. Michael on the other hand, his eyebrows were high on his face like caterpillars and his pupils dilated wide in his brown eyes. Through years of helping each other through tough times, Jeremy was easily perturbed by the panic and adrenaline rushing through Michael's features. He knew from experience Michael's hands must be shaking now and suddenly all Jeremy wanted was to steady them. But he knew his own hands were sticky and wet with his blood and he wasn’t sure that would help. 

_Jeremy._

His attention from Michael wavered when a deep voice called out to him, the only voice he could identify through the static. Looking up and away from his family his gaze locked with cold calculated shining blue eyes of the S.Q.U.I.P. who watched him intently. The Keanu Reeve form sighed deeply, thoughtful, but resigned. It started but paused as if struggling, struggling to put together its thoughts into words. In any normal circumstance, Jeremy probably would have chuckled at the almost human expression. But currently, he was afraid should he laugh in any capacity he might choke on the blood that sat in the back of his throat. The calculated silence between them made Jeremy feel uncomfortable, desperate to fill the gap with something. Anything.

"What took you so long?" He wheezed, the mental effort to speak telepathically too much. The S.Q.U.I.P looked back at him, face contorted in an almost sympathetic gaze. 

_I am... sorry._

Jeremy gaped at him, watching for some kind of joke or something. Instead, his mind replayed the words over and over again, trying to understand while really just short-circuiting. He could feel Rich, Michael and Evan's eyes watching him since he had turned his attention away. Evan gave an aura of confusion, Rich of understanding while Michael stared at him with a kind of twisted fury.

 _I am sorry that I did not_ _foresee_ _your resistance. If only you had listened to me, we could have_ _avoided_ _this. For everyone's sakes._ It groaned, turning away to pace.  _So_ _much potential. So much potential going to waste because you weren't strong enough to let go of Jeremy 1.0._

"I don't regret it." Jeremy coughed, defiance burning like a glowing coal in his heart. "These people matter to me, I do not regret choosing them over you. Besides, I haven't figured out how to get rid of you yet, I am not dead or anything." 

The S.Q.U.I.P. paused at this, it's pacing coming to an abrupt halt. It's eyes locking with an uncomfortable intensitywith Jeremy. When he realized his words he wished with all his might he could take them back. Not because he regretted it, but because of the way the S.Q.U.I.P. looked at him afterward. He could feel two words hanging in the air long before it decided to speak again. Jeremy's mind dipped into blackness for a few moments before surfacing again, violet dots of light speckling his vision. He reached out, disregarding the blood on his hands, clutching Michael's hand for dear life. But this time it wasn't too steady Michael but himself. He could feel the darkness beckoning him and he was scared. He reached with his other hand, connecting with Evan's. But Evan pulled back at the last second as consciousness faded. The S.Q.U.I.P. sighed.

_Not yet._

~*~

_PRESENT_

_~*~_

Time moves slowly in hospitals. Michael rests his head on the wall behind his chair, sighing as he slumps and closes his eyes. He hopes that maybe the dark of his eyelids will give me some peace, a kind of awkward substitute for his headphones that he left at home. Michael knows he could probably call his Mom and get her to bring them to him, or at least call in order to let her know he's okay. He wasn't sure if anybody knew about the fire yet but Michael guessed Jenna Roland would have the news bouncing down the high school halls by Monday. But right now the mere thought of calling his Mom, probably waking her up, in order to ask for headphones like the two-year-old he once was threatened to make him sick. If he was being honest with himself the real reason he refuses to entertain to the idea of calling would the whole rehashing of the tragic terrifying movie in his head of the last couple hours. 

Plus, closing his eyes seemed to be working just fine. At least fine enough to block out the five-star view he had of the Hansen-Heere family along the wall of the ER's waiting room. Evan sat next to him, hands curled in a ball between his knees, countless tracks of tears running continually down his face, his eyes red and puffy as he watched the ground. Mrs. Hansen and Mr. Heere sit beside Evan, their hands intertwined tightly. Mrs. Hansen had one hand rubbing Evan back, the other holding Mr. Heere's hand, thumb stroking soothingly. Michael guesses she must be a really good mom. A better mom than Jeremy had originally got. Mr. Heere sat beside her, his head resting on her shoulder, eyes red and puffy from past tears that had tainted his cheeks. A whole family, plus Michael of course, waiting on news about a blue-lipped boy who meant so much. Damn, Jeremy had it good. He better not die. 

In the dark of his eyelids, a supercut of flashes from his and Jeremy's friendship seemed to play. Two small boys almost unrecognizable as mini Michael and Jeremy, chattering and debating over something he couldn't remember. Jeremy soft brown curls bounced as he spoke, as a kindergartener his hair was so long Michael remembered, his speech stuttering badly. Michael's hair at the time was mostly the same, but he wasn't wearing glasses at the time or hoodie as he did now. Instead five year old him had plain tee shirts and a red superhero cape he refused to take off. The film jumped forward, them walking on the sidewalk in an older neighborhood on their way to middle school. Michael ranting something about Pac-Man probably with Jeremy following quietly, only a small smile on his face. It was around the time Jeremy's mom started drifting from the family, Michael remembered talking about anything and everything just to fill the sad silence that Jeremy put off during those years.

The movie in his head jumped again, suddenly replaying the fight they had before the fire. Them yelling at each other so intensely, being mad at each other over something that seemed so important at the time. Michael replayed that part over and over, wishing he could take it back. Wishing instead he would have known everything he did now, maybe he wouldn't have let Jeremy walk away. Maybe he could have prevented all this from happening if he had just let Jeremy explain his side of the story instead of getting caught up in insults that seem so small now. But that is where the film on his eyelids stopped, almost like it had been denied access from the rest of the night. Michael knew why, since he was blocking himself from rehashing it. He wasn't really sure why, maybe, in some twisted kind of hopeful way he thought if he didn't think of it, it wouldn't have to be real. But life doesn't work like that.

As much as Michael would like to forget the whole thing, he knew it would take years of therapy before he could deal with everything that happened. Everything was so fresh in his mind, the quiet eating at him as he sat in the uncomfortable ER chairs wishing for anything to block out the heavy silence. Ever since Michael had been small he had never liked the quiet. He remembered in second grade when his Mom finally agreed to let him buy his first pair of earphones, the way he waltzed through the class to show off to Jeremy. He was pretty sure he might have put them on display during show and tell time, his triumphant smile resonating.  During that day Jeremy would smile and laugh, the two of them sharing the earphones during lunch. It was also the day he decided he hated earphones, taking a particular liking to headphones after a girl named Marina used pulling his earphones right out unexpectedly as a way to get attention. 

Michael wanted to chuckle at the memory but flashes of a different one started to take over. It was almost as if his subconscious was forcing him to step back and look at the things he was avoiding. Forcing him to remember and almost relive it in a twisted kind of way. Heaving he listened to the quiet chatter of the hospital around him, the occasional sniffle and sigh that gave off a kind of vulnerability Michael wished he couldn't feel. For in the moment he felt as though he was negotiating with himself, weighing how much he hated silence and how much he loathed he memories. A moment of indecision and resignation was all it took for his imagination to catapult into the scene, the grass weak and wet beneath his knees. Michael had been panicking his laid on his best friend sprawled in the grass, head lolling to the side, blood soaking through his shirt and sticking everywhere. 

"Wha... What happened?" The words tumbled frantic and dumbfounded, their receiver saying nothing in return. Or maybe Rich did something but Michael was too busy freaking out to hear.  Movies and video games flashed through Michael's mind, his thoughts searching for something to let him help in some way. But he couldn't move. Instead, he only stared, watching his friend gaze absently at the sky and bleed out in the grass. Until he didn't. Jeremy seemed to finally notice they kneeled next to him, his eyes slowly but surely meeting to examine and Michael and Evan separately. His gaze seemed to settle on Michael for a moment, a touch of concern raising his brown.  _Typical Jeremy. Bleeding out and worried about Michael._ He almost wanted to roll his eyes should his faculties have listened to him instead of the paralyzing fear. 

Suddenly Jeremy ocean blue eyes broke away abruptly landing on empty space to Michael's left. Michael glanced between Jeremy and the empty space, realization landing on top of him with a thump. The panic in his chest seemed to lessen slightly, or at least direct it's power to the pot of anger brewing in his stomach.  _The S.Q.U.I.P aka the one who got us into this whole mess by the way._ He was talking to the S.Q.U.I.P, unfortunately also typical Jeremy. All of their emotional progress was suddenly blowing out the window in a sense as Michael watched the conversation unfold. 

"What took you so long?" Jeremy wheezed, his voice barely above a whisper with strain. Michael's heart seemed to strain with it, worry pooling over the anger for a moment.  Silence enveloped the air around for while, Jeremy mouth falling open over something the S.Q.U.I.P. must have said. Then his jaw tightened, a kind of determination that startled Michael and made the quiet so much more unbearable. 

"I don't regret it." Jeremy had coughed, Michael own heart falling a bit at the statement for a second. But that disappointment was nothing next to the way it dropped to his feet at Jeremy's next statement.   "These people matter to me, I do not regret choosing them over you. Besides, I haven't figured out how to get rid of you yet, I am not dead or anything." 

Michael held his breath, the memory suddenly too much for him to bare. He couldn't handle it anymore, so he withdrew shaking his head slightly to break up the image in his mind. He scrambled to cover the cracks in his resolve so the last couple hours could taint his fragile mental state. No need to launch into an intense panic attack here. Grasping at straws to find an alternative to shade over the silence that got him into this whole mess. A silence that he ran away from when Jeremy had started avoiding him. A silence that pushed him to go that loud party, hoping he could just speak two seconds with his old best friend. A silence that called to him when he cried in the bathroom, pouring his feeling into Jake's parent's bathroom sink. A silence that tempted him as smoke filled the little room, Jeremy breathing on the other side of the door. Times that somehow seemed so long ago. 

In the end he decided to hum Bob Marley to himself to soothe his ramped thoughts. Unfortunately, it only worked for a few moments. 

"Jeremiah Heere's family?" A deep voice cut through Michael's thoughts, his eyes snapping open as he along with everyone else jumped out of their seats. It was weird to hear Jeremy's full name leave a foreign mouth, a state of address Jere always hated so much since his mother had abandoned them. It felt wrong for Michael to be allowing that to happen in his absence although in reality there wasn't much he could do. Mrs. Hansen spoke first. 

"How is he?"

The man standing in front of them hesitated to glance between the line of family and his small clipboard. Michael breath caught in his throat at the way he looked at them, he looked so sorry.

"I regret to inform you that he has... at 2:24 AM during surgery subsequently passed away." Michael choked on his spit, tears that he hadn't shed all night threatening the back of his eyes. His throat closed as the Doctor paused, almost for dramatic effect in some sick way. "I am very sorry. It turned out during surgery he began to suffer from Tension Pneumothorax, which means air was leaking into the pleural space inside the chest causing cardiac arrest due to penetrating trauma, or the stab wound to his chest."

The Doctor seemed to continue talking but Michael couldn't hear the words anymore, each one blending into the next melting into background noise to the mantra in his head that tried to understand. Tried to grasp the thing he had just said. Jeremy is dead. Jeremy is  _dead._  His heart stopped working on a cold metal slab while people were trying to fix him and he  _died._  

_Jeremy is dead._

Everything seemed to spin in an infinite loop of the earth-shattering news replaying again and again until Michael could barely take it. He looks away from the Doctor and caught sight of the people around him, the words stabbing right through them. Mrs. Hansen had gasped, her hand over mouth as she tried to stifle sobs burst from behind her teeth. Mr. Heere just shook his head and backed away, as if should he just yell at the universe that this wasn't true it would listen. Evan looked frozen in place, his face frozen and numb in a way that every emotion that had been displayed left abruptly, draining with the color of his face, only dried tears left behind. Michael couldn't catch his breath, tears rushing suddenly from his throat and springing into his eyes blurring his vision. He was shaking and panicking, gasping for breath as he tried to get a hold of the whirlwind that had knocked the wind out of him. 

It was too much, it was too much, it was too much, i t  w a s  t o o   _m u c h_. It was all too much because his best friend would never waltz down the stairs to his basement anymore, he would never turn eighteen, he would never go to Menchies after graduation as they had planned, he would never scream at Michael for beating him at Mario Cart again, he would never get to kiss Christine or even smile or laugh or cry or yell in any capacity ever  _ever_ again. Michael would never see him again.... because he had died. Died because of that stupid Halloween party that they should never have gone too, that Michael should have never gone too and now Jeremy was dead. The words repeated, each time them bouncing off Michael because he couldn't seem to grasp it. He couldn't a grasp a world in which Jeremy and he didn't walk to school together and argue about video games and weed. How was even possible that someone could just... be  _gone._

His brain exploding Michael ran to the restroom, bursting into a stall desperately. He stood heaving over the toilet even though nothing came out until he crouched on the bathroom floor to cry. Sobbed hard and deep, the wails rising from deep in his chest trying to ease the way his heart hurt. After who knows how long Michael slammed his fist into the stall wall, the tears sliding down his nose and trying to get inside his mouth. He wanted to punch someone, he wanted to beat something senseless, he wanted to make something feel the kind of anguished hopelessness he was feeling. God, it just wasn't fair. Michael could see him in his head, smiling at him with a missing tooth and shining blue eyes when they had gone into class on the first day of first grade. He could see him throwing Michael's Xbox controller across the room in frustration, declaring Plants versus Zombies unbeatable. Their hug after Michael had let go of the notion of dying in that burning house, the way Jeremy chuckled afterward, so very full of life to live. Life was so goddamn unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you must be sad right now so just think about the fact this isn't canon. At least that I tell myself when I murder my favorite characters.


End file.
